Storms of Life
by JESUSFREAK-And-Proud-Of-It
Summary: When facing the storms of life, no one can go it alone. One-shot collection, various themes. R&R!
1. Storms of Life

**A/N:** So I'm currently madly in love with Tangled...

Storms of Life

Electricity crackled angrily and rain spattered madly against the large windowpanes as lightning flashes illuminated Rapunzel's bedchamber in its eerie light. Booms of thunder shook the fancy chandelier that hung from the twenty-foot ceiling and rattled the mahogany-carved, canopy bedframe.

In the center of the huge feather-stuffed mattress, huddled under the thick covers, Rapunzel trembled as another strike of thunder caused the floor to shudder. Nestled into her shoulder, just beneath the tickling ends of her cropped brown hair, Pascal squeaked with fright.

Curled tightly into a ball, Rapunzel buried her face further into the satin pillow, desperately trying to draw comfort from it. Patches of damp stained the luxurious material, and muffled sobs shook her whole frame.

This storm had begun late in the afternoon, dark clouds boiling upon the horizon, ominous. Although Rapunzel's mother and hand-maidens had assured her of its harmlessness, the weather had continued to worsen.

Now, at almost two in the morning, the elements battled viciously outside her palace home, and all Rapunzel could think about was the storm that had plagued the land the day that her Mother Gothel had died.

Although the storm had a brief reprieve for about half an hour after her tear had saved Eugene, the heavens had quickly opened up again, and the terrible weather had forced them to remain in the tower until it blew over. Trapped temporarily—they holed themselves up in Rapunzel's room as rain battered the windows and the wind howled. The haunting sounds reminded Rapunzel of her mother's dying screams—and even with Eugene snoring in the armchair beside her bed, she hardly slept. Her view of the world had been torn asunder, and everything she had previously known was shattered into thousands of glittering pieces, like the mirror lying in shambles on the cold wooden floor downstairs. That night was the worst of Rapunzel's life.

Now, in the spacious and lavishly decorated bedchamber that was her new tower, Rapunzel quivered, wondering how she could ever find solace and healing in a place so like the one she had left behind.

After a particularly terrifying series of thunder strikes, Rapunzel threw back her covers in desperation and leapt out of bed, causing Pascal to squeal as he clung to the sleeve of her silk nightdress. Rushing to the heavy wooden door, she wrenched at the brass handle and pulled it open, fleeing into the corridor as another bolt of lightning flashed—casting every corner into sharp and unyielding shadow.

Flying down the ornate hallway with her nightgown streaming through the air behind her like a ghost-trail, Rapunzel bolted to a small door set beneath a marble arch, twisting the handle and shoving it open, rushing down a narrow, dimly lit stone stairway to the lower lever: the servant dormitories.

Counting the doors on the left as she passed them at a dead run, Rapunzel finally found the one she was looking for: room four zero eight, Eugene's quarters. Although the King and Queen had insisted on granting him a bedchamber of greater honor, after one night in the extravagant room, the former thief had pleaded to be allowed a room of more modest and (as he put it) less creepy accommodations. So four oh eight had become his designation, being the only servants' quarters that was available on the floor nearest to Rapunzel. For that, she was grateful.

Gasping for breath and thoroughly frightened out of her wits, Rapunzel knocked frantically on the doorframe, praying that he would wake up and take her away from the tower once more.

The door swung inward a few moments later, and a sleepy-eyed Eugene with a ruffled nightshirt and even more ruffled hair poked his head out, blinking.

Rapunzel stood there, blinking back at him, the tears still flowing freely down her terrified and guilt-ridden face, upset with herself for needing him at so ungodly an hour.

"Blon—die…?" he managed, a yawn breaking up the pet name into more pronounced syllables. He rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand, and, his eyes cleared of sleep, noticed her expression for the first time.

"Hey," Eugene murmured tenderly, reaching to take her hand in his. "What's wrong?"

Rapunzel melted then. Folding into him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and sobbed. Pascal, recovering from being dragged through the night, tucked himself under her chin, his skin a pallid blue color.

"Sshh," Eugene soothed, drawing the princess into the room with an arm around her waist. Softly, he closed the door behind them, and stood, his arms pulled tight around her, allowing peace to seep into her mind like warmth into her shivering frame.

After what seemed like ages, she finally pulled back, sniffling. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she gazed at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"It's the storm, isn't it," he said. It wasn't a question.

Rapunzel nodded wordlessly, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

"Well," Eugene replied quietly, "I know it technically isn't proper for a princess to spend the night in the quarters of her soon-to-be fiancé, but I'm sure your esteemed parents can excuse us this one time."

Rapunzel blinked, bewildered. "Soon-to-be fiancé…?"

Instead of replying, Eugene led her by the elbow to the cot in the corner. "Here," he said, "You take the bed. I'll take the floor tonight."

"Eugene," Rapunzel said more firmly, "Soon to be fiancé…?"

"Shh," he took her softly by the shoulders and eased her onto the bed, which was still warm from his body heat. Pascal crawled from her shoulder and curled up on the small sackcloth pillow, and Eugene encouraged Rapunzel to lie down as well. Pulling the coarse cotton covers up to her chin, he tucked them in beneath the straw mattress. Then he moved to the chest at the end of his bed and retrieved another blanket, which he spread on the floor.

By that time, Rapunzel was upright once more. "Eugene," she murmured.

This time, he met her gaze. "Mm?"

"The floor must be cold. Won't you sleep on the bed too? I think there's room enough."

This caught Eugene off guard. He glanced at the floor, then back at her. His brow furrowed, and he glanced again at the floor. "Well," he said finally, meeting her emerald eyes once more, "I suppose it can't hurt."

Rapunzel settled down once more, Pascal curled up against her neck. Eugene rested a knee on the mattress at the foot of the bed, and climbed over Rapunzel's feet, so he could lay on the side of the bed closest to the wall. She wriggled over to make room for him as he slid under the covers, but as soon as he was settled, he curled an arm over her waist. Rapunzel shifted closer, and turned her face toward his.

"Thank you," she murmured, yawning. "Thank you for bringing me out of that tower."

The corners of his lips turned up in a grin, and he kissed her nose. "You did that yourself, Blondie. I was just along for the ride."

Rapunzel smiled and snuggled closer, closing her eyes. Down here, she could barely hear the storm.

Eugene shifted forward to whisper in her ear. "The storms will always come, Rapunzel. Let them come. I will be here to battle them with you."


	2. Sketched

**A/N:** Shameless, plot-less fluff.

* * *

><p><strong>Sketched<strong>

"Draw me."

"What?"

Eugene grinned roguishly, leaning his elbow on the coarse wooden table with his fist beneath his chin. "Come on, Rapunzel, if you need a model, use me."

The pixie-haired princess smoothed the parchment of her sketchbook before glancing up to gaze at him contemplatively. "I don't know…" she stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth in that endearing way and squinted at him, her emerald eyes analyzing the lines of his face and upper body as he smirked at her from across the dim little table in the farthest corner of the Snuggly Duckling. Pascal lounged on her shoulder, chameleon eyes shifting as he nonchalantly observed other tavern-goers. Rapunzel self-consciously tugged at the buckle on her cloak. "Technically," she said slowly, "We aren't even supposed to be here. I should be practicing penmanship with Lady Helena."

"Ah," Eugene made a face and pushed back, shifting his chair onto its two back legs and propping his feet up on the table, "That pudgy little woman won't mind you missing this one time. After all, your penmanship is better than most peoples'. And—" he added, almost as an afterthought, "Now that we're married, no nobleman can cry 'Indecency!' when we decide to take a vacation day together, right?"

The princess shrugged, her eyebrows quirking upward in amusement as she met her husband's gaze. "And it's for a good cause, right?" she tapped the pads of her fingers against the blank parchment and bit her lip thoughtfully. "I need a portrait sketch for my royal painting instructor by tomorrow."

"I have offered my humble services, milady," Eugene replied matter-of-factly, waggling his eyebrows. With a glint in his brown eyes, he brought his feet down from the table and braced one hand on the table, running a hand over his stubbly chin. "After all, who wouldn't want to look at this handsome face?"

Rapunzel smiled, her face lighting up as it often did when she had come to a decision. "Well, if I'm going to draw, I need better lighting than this." She stood up abruptly, her skirts swishing as she grabbed Eugene's hand and tugged him from his seat, waving goodbye to their thug friends and the bartender as she whisked them both out the door.

Maximus was waiting for them outside, tied to the hitching post at Eugene's insisting, though both the princess and former thief knew that it wasn't necessary, even if tavern protocol called for it. He had one hoof cocked lazily, his eyelids drooping low in the afternoon heat.

The stallion's ears pricked at the sight of them, and, coming out of his reverie, he whinnied. Eugene pulled the reins from their slipknot as Rapunzel boosted herself into the saddle, Pascal shimmying down her shoulder to bury himself in their mount's white mane. Tossing the reins over Max's head, Eugene lifted his left foot to the stirrup and mounted behind the princess, reaching around her to tighten his grip on the reins as he used his knees to spin the stallion around.

"So, where exactly are we going?" Eugene asked just as he realized he had no idea where Rapunzel's imagination was pointing her.

Beaming, the princess took the reins from his hands and spurred Max onward, giggling as the sudden movement caused them to lurch in the saddle, and Eugene's arms tightened around her waist. After a few moments, they settled into Max's loping gait as the stallion's hooves thudded rhythmically up the dirt path.

Rapunzel giggled, glancing up at her husband as she sketched vigorously with the charcoal in her hand.

"What?"

The princess laughed again, her eyes still fixed on the page of parchment laid flat on her knees. "Your expression," she replied cryptically, glancing up again.

Eugene's expression had changed to one of confusion, and his wife grinned. "No," she said, "The one you had before!"

The lines of confusion on his face only deepened.

Unperturbed, Rapunzel continued to draw, her fingers moving smoothly and skillfully as she worked. The corners of her mouth were turned up in a teasing little smile, as if she was trying to hold back laughter. Pascal, curled up against her shoulder, susurrated with amusement.

"So Blondie," Eugene diverged conversationally, "What made you choose to draw me in—erm, a tree?" He gestured to the bright foliage around them, propping one foot up on a lower branch to settle into a more comfortable position.

Rapunzel, tucked against the trunk and surrounded by thick greenery, smiled thoughtfully as streams of sunlight danced across her form, continuously morphed by the green shadows of leaves shifting in the wind.

"Well," she started, shrugging, "The lighting is much more interesting than direct sun—and the background is much prettier and the more complicated lines contrast with—" she went on to describe some of the more intricate rules of portrait creation that flew far over Eugene's head.

Though he earnestly tried to pay attention to what she was saying, the reformed thief found himself marveling at the way the leaves around them matched the shade of her eyes, and how her simple joy seemed to sparkle from those green orbs like the sunlight danced on the treetops. He admired the way that the skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and how her melodious laugh was comparable to birdsong. Her passion for life was contagious, and warmth welled up in his chest.

"…Eugene?"

He broke out of his reverie, blinking. "Huh? What?"

A bemused smirk was playing around the corners of his wife's lips. "I said, did that answer your question?"

"Yes," he responded quickly, and to his confusion, Rapunzel giggled. "…what?" He lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh nothing." Again, the scratch of charcoal on the parchment in her lap.

Eugene shook his head, baffled, smiling despite himself. Women were so confusing.

Ten minutes later, with blackened fingers and beaming smile, Rapunzel was finished.

"Done!" she announced, tucking the charcoal in a fold of her cloak.

"Can I see?" Eugene leaned forward curiously, and his wife turned the sketch toward him, her eyes glittering with delight.

"Hm," Eugene appraised the sketch thoughtfully, his brown eyes gleaming with pride. "Look at that."

Rapunzel tilted her head to the side, puzzled. "What?"

Her husband grinned, winking. "You got my nose right."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I tried to capture more of Eugene's character. Not quite enough of his sarcastic side in this for my liking—not that I didn't try—just every time I sit down to do a funny Eugene fic, it ends up being sappy. It probably would help if I took Rapunzel out of these blurbs but…I don't think I'm emotionally prepared for that yet. ;)


	3. Stolen

**A/N: **Short little ficlet.

**Stolen**

It was evening.

Lively piano music played a lovely legato waltz. The palace ballroom was decorated with blooming flowers and fabrics of countless colors. The large hall and courtyard were packed to the brim with noblemen and women—many high-class citizens from around the kingdom, all using this occasion to schmooze up to the royal family.

It was the second day of the wedding festivities, and already Rapunzel was beyond ready to be out of the limelight. She had met more people—old, fat, young, thin—and had been kissed on the hand enough in the past two days to last five lifetimes. At first the attention had been flattering, exciting even. By now, however, the saccharine smiles and too-sweet small talk were beginning to make her sick.

Her only reprieve had come during what her bodyguard thought was a bathroom break in the garden. Her husband and friend, 'Master of Stealth' as he jokingly called himself, met her in the outhouse.

"Well, this is romantic," Eugene remarked wryly, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

Rapunzel regarded him with a pained expression. "Eugene, I don't know if I can do this! There's so many people—so many things to remember—I didn't ask to be royalty—I never imagined it'd be this hard!"

Her husband frowned despite himself, hating to see her so distressed. Taking Rapunzel gently by the shoulders, he looked her in the eye and said, "Well, I never imagined I'd be forced to spend a stolen moment with my wife in an outhouse. Yet here we are." With his fingertips, he brushed a short brown strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "Let's make the most of it."

He leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the lips. She responded to her husband's kiss and found herself gripping the buckles of his vest. Stepping back before things could go further, knowing that there would be plenty of time for that later; Eugene took his wife's hand and shifted closer to whisper in her ear. "We're in this together, Blondie. And…I'm not just speaking literally," he glanced around at the thin wooden walls of the outhouse amusingly.

Rapunzel smiled. "Thank you," she murmured, squeezing his hand.

Eugene cracked a toothy grin and waggled his eyebrows. "That's what I'm here for."

His wife stifled a giggle with the palm of her hand, slapping him on the arm playfully. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into a bear hug.

After a moment, she sighed into his chest. "I better get back before Big Nose comes looking for me."

Eugene had buried his face into her short hair. He exhaled in a huff of discontent. "I know," he said, not wanting to let go but knowing he had to.

A moment later, they let go.

Rapunzel peered between the slats to see if the coast was clear. "Give me a minute or two before you come out, okay?"

Her husband nodded wordlessly.

His wife unbolted the door and left the outhouse, straightening her dress as she did so.

Eugene sighed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

Exhaling, he began to count.


End file.
